Hetalia: The Caged Bird That Sung
by Bai-Marionette
Summary: He had little wings. Little wings covered with blood. He had slim hands. Slim hands covered with blood. He had a beautiful voice. A beautiful voice choked by his own blood. But Arthur would set him free, he had to – he had promised. Dark fic. UKUS


******The Caged Bird That Sung**

******Rating:**** T**

******Summary****:** He had little wings. Little wings covered with blood. He had slim hands. Slim hands covered with blood. He had a beautiful voice. A beautiful voice choked by his own blood. But Arthur would set him free, he had to – he had promised. Dark fic. UKUS

**__****BrooklynBabbii**

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******I may or may not finish this.**

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******|.:Chapter One:.|**

'Lovely Darkness'

By: Abdul Wahab

_Day by day the beauty of darkness__  
__all around multiplies and blooms __  
__into a flower of treasure by which I fill__  
__my trove at the time when I hate to see__  
__the day light and love to pass my time __  
__under spell of bitter rapture and swim__  
__with delight when, without sound I weep__  
__in ecstasy I recall your cold face when I see __  
__emptiness engulfs me and nothing I get to fill my void __  
__but this lovely darkness and your shrug silently to ruminate._

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The lone being in the golden cage sung, his single voice bouncing off the metal bars and reflecting back to him. He danced by himself, not having a partner, never having had a partner, and never would have a partner. These were facts, as he knew them to be. Simple facts, and nothing more.

But he still danced.

He awaited the day that the cage would be lit up and then broken. The day when he would get to step outside, off the cold and harsh metal floor and unto the softer in comparison, ground below. The day when he could stop having to recall the feel of the sun on his skin. Where he could breathe, and the air would not be stale and disgusting to his tongue. When...when he could be free again. Free as he had before, free, and never to be locked away in a cage ever again.

His sung came forth from his lips as easily as he breathed. Toes gliding across the smooth floor, barely there as he gracefully lifted himself and leaped to another spot as if the last had tried to shove him away. His pearling wing tips barely touched the floor as he danced and leaped. He spun on one foot, perfectly balanced, and finally opened his wings slightly – beholding the mirrors the sight of such what was a beautiful tragedy.

Blank white eyes, devoid of any color, as lids came across them horizontally in a drawn out blink, and then came the appearance of blue eyes darkened heavily by his despair. A face paler than even chalk and porcelain, blue veins clearly noticeable, even in his slightly hollow cheeks. Dark circles hung under his expressionless blue eyes. Small pointed ears, like that of an elf caught the sound of his movements, only his movements in the darkness and nothing more. Not even a phantom drip of water.

Webbing stretched slightly in between his long fingers, their light colorings akin to the metallic bands of human jewelry over the being's elbow. Veins collided with the seemingly artistically crafted scars of various symbols and flowers over the dancer's arms. Pale freckles adorned to his face.

From the neck and down, there were scars – painted on by his master. The one who had created him, said that he loved him, said he would set him free – only to, one day, go insane with some sudden passion and lock him up in the cage forever. He forced him to sing all night long, made him sleep in the day, and made him forget what the sun felt like. What grass was like to his feet. How the young dancer missed those moments of warmth! He now knew only cold and cruelty, from being trapped in the cage for so long.

Such pure wings, they were always acting as his security. They acted as his blanket when he was cold, his shield in the wind and the cruelty of his master, and even held tokens of their own scars. His feathers stood proud and stark in the dark, just as white as the slim fitting pants that hugged his waist. The ends were frayed and stopped above his knee. He had outgrown them, since when he had gotten them and they had dragged over his feet. He had been in the cage for a long time. He had no shirt to cover his chest, his master loving to see the smooth expanse of skin. Loving to run his hands over it, calling it his and only his. A white sash was the only other thing on him, and it traveled down his thigh and came to a stop near his ankle. It had been longer too.

His hair – God, his hair, it had grown so dull without the sun's rays. Once a beautiful golden wheat color, now the color of pale ash. And it was so long, nearly at his back, and always forced to be kept up in the braid that his master liked to see. If the braid was not there, his master would get angry, and the dancer was threatened with starvation and another scar.

He could already hear his master's voice. Asking him to dance again and again. To sing for him again, sing again and again, singing the same song over and over. Dance and sing. Sing and dance. Doing so until he collapsed from exhaustion. His tired muscles too wrung out to bring him back to his feet, his arms too weak to catch him when he fell. The cry of indignation from his master's anger, the trembles he made as he still struggled to please so that he could be fed. The crack of whips as he took too long, and simply resigned himself to his fate. Another night of emptiness, of pain, and the addition of new scars once the blood dried upon his wounds.

A tear escaped the being, as his feet came to a sudden stop.

And the dancer fell, toes numb, legs not moving, and arms not even reaching out to catch him when he fell. He no longer caught himself when he fell. He knew not of the point to do so. Why should he care if he hits the floor? At least, he was allowed to cry there. Cry as much as he wanted, crying for his freedom, for the sun, for his master, and for himself.

Oh, how he cried!

His pale legs came up to his chin, as he hugged. White eyes poured forth tears, and only his sobs added noise to the room. He was alone.

**God, he was so alone. **


End file.
